


honey you need

by amazonziti



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-07
Updated: 2010-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazonziti/pseuds/amazonziti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy is willing to bet Adam's known exactly where Tommy's tattoo was going to be for weeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	honey you need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rivers_bend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivers_bend/gifts).



> Originally posted at teamratbert [here](http://teamratbert.livejournal.com/75997.html?thread=8201437#t8201437) on July 7, 2010 and to my LiveJournal [here](http://amazonziti.livejournal.com/54886.html#cutid1) on July 10, 2010.
> 
> Written as a little something-something for rivers_bend, way back when Adam, Tommy, Sasha and Cam went on a tattoo field trip together during the Glam Nation tour. Adam [tweeted](https://twitter.com/adamlambert/status/17873072385) a [picture](http://yfrog.com/jnm3msj) of the infinity symbol on his wrist, but we didn't yet know what or where Tommy's tattoo was. That was an exciting time. 
> 
> Certain dynamics inspired by Adam's rendition of "Whole Lotta Love" at his Knoxville, TN show on July 6, 2010. You can watch a video of that performance [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IRu8QRGZ6Y).

Adam goes first. He sits calmly and looks at himself in mirrored wall behind the tattooist as his forearm is cleaned and then shaved and then cleaned again and the outline of the infinity symbol transferred to his naked freckled skin.

Tommy sits in an extra chair and scoots up to Adam's left side, takes his hand in case Adam needs to squeeze. Adam smiles at him and tickles Tommy's palm with his fingers, and then meets his own gaze again in the mirror. The tattooist bends over Adam's right arm, and Adam's eyes go unfocused and his left hand goes slack. Tommy keeps holding on to him anyway. Just in case.

Adam's tattoo doesn't bleed much, and it's over quickly. Adam stretches and sighs when it's done and grins when Sasha and Cam come over to see how it looks before the tattooist locks up infinity with a bandage and some tape.

It's Tommy's turn next. "I want the same tattoo Adam got," he tells the tattooist.

"Uh huh," the guy says. "Same place too?"

Adam and Tommy had talked about it and figured that would probably be a bad idea. "Nah," Tommy says. "I was thinking here instead?" He turns around and pulls up the back of his shirt a little to expose the small of his back.

Then Adam's there, warm steady hand on the back of Tommy's neck. "No, baby," Adam says. "You don't need a tramp stamp, come on."

"Tell me where it's gonna go, then."

"Hm." Adam sounds like he's thinking about it, but Tommy is willing to bet he's known exactly where Tommy's tattoo was going to be for weeks, since they first started talking about getting them done. Adam slides his hand down Tommy's back, dips his fingers below the waistband of Tommy's jeans, drags them all the way around til the tips rub the jut of Tommy's hip. "Right here."

It'll hurt, getting ink where it's just skin and bone. "Okay," Tommy says. He blinks up at Adam. Adam smiles.

That night they unwrap their tattoos together in the bathroom of Adam’s hotel suite. Tommy can’t stop staring at his mark on Adam’s arm. He’d feel kind of like a possessive creep, except Adam can’t stop staring at his mark on Tommy, either.

“C’mere, baby,” Adam says, and Tommy steps into his arms easy, nuzzling into Adam’s shoulder, designer cotton against his nose and cheek, Adam’s scent filling up his head. Adam lets out a long slow sigh and wraps his arms around Tommy, digs his fingers into his hair, lazy pull down the back of Tommy’s skull. Tommy lets his head loll in Adam’s hand.

“Good,” Adam says, and then untangles them, putting his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. Tommy hears himself whine a little in protest, and there’s amusement in Adam’s voice when he says, “Turn around, Tommy, I want to look at you.”

Obediently, Tommy turns to face the bathroom mirror. Adam tugs him back to lean against his chest and Tommy does. He hums a little in the back of his throat as Adam folds away the fly of Tommy’s jeans so they can both stare at Adam’s mark on Tommy’s hip. Adam frames it with his fingers, looks into Tommy’s eyes, lets Tommy see his satisfied smirk. “You like it?” Tommy asks.

“It’s perfect,” Adam says.

Later Adam lets Tommy rub unscented moisturizer into his mark on Adam’s wrist. Tommy’s as gentle as he knows how to be, and Adam doesn’t flinch. Then it’s Adam’s turn, his warm fingers and the cool lotion startling and welcome on Tommy’s hip. “Three times a day til it stops peeling,” he says.

“I know,” Tommy says. “I _have_ done this before.”

Adam quirks an eyebrow at him. “Let me take care of it?”

Tommy laughs. “You want to rub my scabby tattoo for me?”

“It’s mine,” Adam says. “I want to take care of it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tommy says. “Can I do yours?”

“Sure,” Adam says. He looks happy. Tommy smiles at him. Adam kisses Tommy’s smile, and then licks it when he’s done like he’s trying to be thorough.

They smooth lotion on each others’ tattoos before breakfast in the morning, and then after lunch before their soundcheck at the Knoxville theater. It’s nice each time. Tommy likes taking care of Adam, likes the uncomplicated pleasure he feels every time he sees his mark on Adam’s forearm, every full-body pulse of _mine_. Adam bites his own lip when he touches his mark on Tommy, glances at Tommy through dark lashes, smiles when he’s done.

Adam pulls Tommy into a cluttered corner backstage after Ori finishes her set and brandishes a tiny tube of lotion at him. “Now?” Tommy says. “We’ve got like ten minutes before we go on. I think it can wait.”

“For luck,” Adam says, like either of them needs it. “Just...” A nip against Tommy’s jaw, and then another on top of the almost-healed hickey on Tommy’s neck. Tommy can feel Adam’s lashes brush his jawline. “Let me.”

Then one of Adam’s hands is cradling the back of Tommy’s neck, tilting Tommy’s head to lean into Adam’s collarbone. His other hand is at the waistband of Tommy’s pants, pulling the leather away. Tommy looks down, sees his own pale skin against black leather, Adam’s indelible blue mark on his hip. Adam sighs into Tommy’s ear. “There it is.”

“Mm.” Tommy leans into Adam harder, and Adam takes his weight easily, strokes a dry fingertip over infinity, kisses Tommy’s cheek and then his ear and then the corner of his mouth.

“Good boy,” Adam says. Tommy shivers, takes a breath to make sure he’s not drowning. Adam kisses Tommy’s open mouth, gentle on Tommy’s slack lips and lax tongue, tightens his hand on Tommy’s neck. Tommy tries to kiss back, but it feels like he can’t make his mouth work. “Ssh,” Adam says, kisses him again.

Then there’s cool slick lotion on Tommy’s hip. Adam lets Tommy turn his head again to look as Adam rubs the lotion into his mark, wipes away the excess, tugs up Tommy’s waistband. “Mine,” Adam says, and Tommy nods.


End file.
